Would You?
by Still believes Snivellus aka Heather Granger
Summary: A first person reflection from Severus Snape. One-Shot Completed. "Would you look at me differently if you knew me more than your teacher? Would think more or less of me because of it?"


WOULD YOU?

By

Snivellus

_A/N: I wrote this today, after visiting one of my professor's house. I knew he had a family, but I never knew much about his life he has a special needs son, and it made me think about how I looked at him, and made me reassess what kind of person he was, not just my professor. I can relate that to how Harry might see Professor Snape. All Harry knows Snape, as is a professor, nothing else, what if he was more than a professor?_

Would you look at me differently if you knew me more than your teacher? Would think more or less of me because of it? Would you expect me to have feelings, emotions? Do you think I would have a family? Single? Am I a dog person or a cat lover? Do I smoke? Am I afraid of the dark? Do spiders frighten me? Would you know?

My name is Severus Snape, Professor and Potion Masters of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many have tried to describe me, all have failed. My students know me as cold, bitter and distant. My daughter sees me differently.

You ask yourself how can I have a daughter. The answer is simple, I fell in love. Even cold bitter Potion Masters can fall in love. Unfortunately for my daughter, and myself her mother died, and I was left to raise her.

You may think this would be simple for one who is a teacher, but it is the most difficult thing I have ever done, and will continue to be.

I let few into my private life, and there is a reason for it, I do not want anyone to hurt my daughter.

My daughter was born two months early, the cord wrapped around her neck. The mediwitch said that she might not live. I cannot possibly begin to describe my feelings at time. I left the room not knowing how to react; little did I know the long road that was to follow.

My daughter has dark ebony hair with a slight curl. Her eyes are that of her mother's, blue like the ocean. She is sixteen years old, and sees everyone as if they were equal. My daughter is what some muggles would refer to as a special needs child. She cannot talk, and cannot walk. She has the intellect of a three year old, and yet she is the light of my life.

Some days are better than others, some days I want to weep for her, and others she makes me thank Merlin that I have her. My students would not understand, my collogues would not understand and so I have distanced myself from them. I shy away from the light, and withdraw from the attention.

It is odd to me how with anything out of the normal people seem to feel uncomfortable, how someone different from them they shy away from. I am not saying that I am not guilty of this charge either, because I myself have done it with Remus Lupin. I was young and did not know any better, which is why I know my students would not understand about my daughter.

Looking back, I see I have judged Potter exactly the way I want no one to judge my daughter. I looked at him differently. I did not believe that he could have feelings, that he perhaps had wants and fears. He does not yet think of me more than his professor, and perhaps never will, but I am now old enough to see my error.

It is strange how much I have learned from my daughter. I hold her to the same standards as my students; I want her to be the best she can be, even if that means learning to feed herself properly. I want the best out of people, because I expect nothing less, and Sylvia expects nothing less from me. She waits for me at the door, when I get home. She smiles and laughs, and to her, I am her world. To me that is the best part of my day.

Do you look at me differently knowing the truth? Do you wonder if I love her? Do you know that I could not live my life without her? Do you wish that she was better? Do you think of me as a person rather than your professor? Do you wonder if I tell her stories and tuck her in at night? Do you hope that you too can be touched by my daughter?


End file.
